


Viewer Beware

by Miratete



Series: Bedtime Stories [2]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, BDSM, Chains, Corporal Punishment, Decepticons are Prudes, M/M, Partial Nudity, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 06:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18654946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: -o-o-o-o-o-Megatron wasn't sure what to expect when a badly shaken Soundwave presented the file of Buzzsaw's latest espionage. Viewing it, Decepticon command was greatly disturbed by what they saw. Apparently the Autobots treated their own offenders worse than the way they treated captured Decepticons. And whatever had Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee done to warrant such perverse punishment?-o-o-o-o-o-





	Viewer Beware

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by yet another good prompt on Tfanonkink. Prompt follows at the end of this story.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was a fairly ordinary day at Decepticon headquarters... at least until Soundwave came into the control room looking visibly agitated. He tottered over to Megatron at the planning table where the warlord and Onslaught and Scrapper were leaning over a series of topographical renderings centering on a power plant they'd not yet attacked.

Soundwave tried to compose himself before addressing Megatron, but after failing to do so within a klik, Megatron turned and looked at him with an expression of annoyance on his face. “Yes Soundwave?”

“Recent espionage mission successful. Footage obtained.”

Megatron allowed himself a small smirk. “Anything interesting in it?”

Soundwave shuddered, tried to speak, and had to reset his vocalizer. “Buzzsaw obtained footage of what appears to be...” The officer stalled again, his visor dimming.

“What!?”

Onslaught was smirking beneath his mask. It was wonderful to see the unflappable third-in-command so flapped. Scrapper looked concerned.

“Autobot head of special operations being punished... severely. Possible insurrection in Autobot ranks.” Suddenly every one of Soundwave's primary cooling fans whirred nervously.

Megatron's expression went from a smirk to a full-on grin. “Really now...”

Whispers bounced around the control room. Everyone said the Autobots, at least the ones they were dealing with on Earth, all got along enviably well. An insurrection? What had happened behind the Ark's peaceful facade?

“Well, put it up on the monitor. Let's see what's going on, shall we?”

Soundwave looked ready to shake apart. He pulled out a memory stick and handed it to Megatron. “Private viewing recommended.” His normally steady hand trembled. “Viewer beware.” And with that he bolted from the room.

Megatron looked down at the tiny thing in his hand, obviously containing information that had completely unnerved Soundwave. And then he looked to Onslaught and Scrapper with a devious grin. “Well then. Shall we see what Soundwave finds so disturbing?” And with that he turned on his heels and headed for the conference room next door. “I should get Starscream and Motormaster in here for this too.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

They'd watched with amusement as the black and white third-in-command was led in manacles through the halls to a large workroom in the depths of the Ark. They'd watched with delight as a chain had been attached to the manacles—a chain slung over an overhead pipe that left him stretched upwards and standing vulnerably. They'd watched with giddiness as his armor had been removed and Prime's tactician approached with a box full of electro-clamps. They'd watched with anticipation as the clamps were applied to several sensitive places and the power switched on. 

Hearing Jazz scream was music. Sadly that screaming was all about all they could hear—Buzzsaw's vantage point was near a ventilation hub and the huge fan covered most of the noise

And now the tactician was whipping Jazz with a series of what appeared to be plastic straps attached to a handle. A bit unusual, but it still seemed to be causing some suffering. The head of Spec-Ops squirmed and flinched.

“What ever was Soundwave going on about?” laughed Starscream. “This is the best surveillance we've had of the Autobots in a long time.”

“Agreed,” rumbled Onslaught, leaning onto one arm of the chair. “It's nice to see that little troublemaker in this state. If I'd known I would have loaned them Vortex.”

Megatron chuckled. “A shame we don't know what happened. I'm curious to know what crime merits corporal punishment. I thought they'd eliminated those laws long ago.”

Starscream snorted. While officially there were no laws requiring it in the Decepticon code, there were none that proscribed it, and it was certainly applied with some frequency.

“Oh hey, there's Optimus,” noted Scrapper.

The Autobot leader appeared, walking up to Jazz. In his hand was a chain. At the opposite end of the chain was a yellow minibot with his hands stasis-cuffed in front of him. The normally cheerful little thing hung his head in shame. 

“The slag?” asked Motormaster with his usual erudition, who had been silent until now.

“Bumblebee. One of their scouts. Reports to Jazz. I guess he chose the wrong side regarding whatever happened,” supplied Starscream with a malicious snicker.

Optimus paused before Jazz, cupped a hand around the prisoner's chin, and turned the mech's face upwards to stare him in the optics. They could see his mask move in speech but the noise of the fan overrode all but a few words.

And then the Prime went over to a large chair near the edge of the room and sat, dragging the yellow minibot like a reluctant pet on a leash. He sat, made himself comfortable, and was served a cube of high-grade by yet another mech who had appeared from off-camera.

“Oh wow...” breathed several of the observers in unison.

They all knew Mirage was quite a looker. But like this... he was a weapon. He'd had much of his armor removed and had been painted pure white. Whorl-link chains with an oiled copper finish, more decorative than practical, criss-crossed his frame in an ornate pattern. The end of one chain had been connected to a loop on Ironhide's hip, who had come in alongside Mirage.

“I don't get it,” said Onslaught. “Is he a prisoner too? Those chains don't look like they could actually hold him if he struggled, and his feet are free anyway.”

“He looks pretty,” sighed Motormaster. “Dragstrip would love him like that.”

“I'd love him like that,” Scrapper choked.

“He'd never have you,” sniped Onslaught. “Like that or otherwise.”

“Well with those three there, I'd guess that their whole special ops department rebelled,” theorized Starscream. “This could be very good news.”

Ironhide pulled up a chair and sat close to Optimus. He gave a little jerk to the chain linking him to Mirage, whereupon Mirage dropped to the floor on his hands and knees in front of him. Ironhide leaned back, making a footstool of the smaller mech before him.

“Oh wow...” breathed Scrapper again.

And then something happened that caused the five viewers to freeze, their red optics fixed concernedly upon the screen.

The tactician had opened the central prisoner's interface array.

The five stared at the large screen with a mixture of horror and disbelief as Prowl unsheathed his spike, spread apart Jazz's legs, and stood in front of the third in command with a wicked smirk on his faceplates. His mouth moved with speech but the audio was impossible to make out. Jazz wasn't responding. He just stood there helplessly, head hanging.

When Prowl stepped up to Jazz, Scrapper's plating rattled loudly. “He's not going to... he's... he can't.”

Even Megatron gasped as Prowl forced himself into Jazz's bared valve.

Motormaster stared with wide optics, his own plating rattling now.

Scrapper turned his head, shielding his visor with a squeak of “I can't watch.”

“That's... that's... it's barbaric!” Starscream stuttered. “How dare he rape a prisoner. A restrained one at that!”

This time Motormaster squeaked and bolted from the conference room.

Megatron was stunned into silence. How could this be happening? How had Autobot morals broken down into this depravity? And what had happened that would turn these three—possibly more—formerly loyal Autobots into abused prisoners?

He glanced around at his own group, the three faces all glued to the video. Starscream was often seditious and disloyal but he'd never consider raping the seeker as punishment. Onslaught, tough and fierce and calculating on the battlefield, was a sweet submissive darling in the berth who happily lay beneath Megatron the nights they spent together. Scrapper's team was the epitome of cooperation and brotherly love, the group long being held up as an ideal for other Decepticons to follow. A mech looking for a nice frag was always welcomed into their quarters. 

And then there were the absent Soundwave and Motormaster. Soundwave was known for his protectiveness of his family. Any mech interested in one of his cassettes was carefully screened to make sure that he was 'suitable' and even after acceptance was still further watched for long after for 'appropriate behavior.' And while their 'family-time' was perhaps a bit too loving and cuddly for Megatron's tastes, the host-mech kept his brood quite happy. Motormaster on the other hand was squeamish about sex, and rumor had it that since the creation of the Stunticon team all five had lead celibate lives. Megatron had several times invited Motormaster to share his berth, but to his disappointment the big mech had timidly refused, choosing instead to cling to his virginity.

When the Autobot tactician overloaded, he pulled out as quickly as he'd entered, transfluid spilling in the wake of his retreat. The chains were released and Jazz crumpled to the floor before being shoved off toward Ironhide. There, the black and white mech was swapped for the now pure-white one in the copper chains, Jazz becoming Ironhide's new footstool and Mirage being led to the center of the room. Mirage was strung up, but with a difference. One of the slender mech's legs was lifted by a chain and the espionage agent ended up spread open wide and with but one foot-tip upon the floor.

Scrapper laughed in awkward discomfort as Prowl once more got out his spike and forced it into the prisoner's valve. “That's so wrong. Howcome? Why are they doing this?” He turned to Megatron, his optics a flickering orange and his face a mess of worry and questioning. And then suddenly a memory hit him. “They captured us once! But Hook never said... he never said that... We never noticed any signs that they'd... Do you think....? Oh Primus!” Scrapper fell forward onto his arms and sobbed.

Megatron watched Prowl pound into Mirage, his cooling fans clicking on nervously. Admittedly the spy was gorgeous and there probably wasn't a mech out there that would refuse him, but how could these Autobots tarnish and even profane such a loving and intimate act?

Buzzsaw's feed moved to where Ironhide now had Jazz kneeling between his spread knees and was forcing the smaller mech's face into his crotch.

“He's got his spike in his mouth!” Starscream shrieked in revulsion. “That's disgusting! Whoever heard of such a thing!”

The other observers all groaned and made choking noises. But apparently Ironhide was enjoying it, his head thrown back and his expression one of extreme pleasure. His broad hands gripped the black head, guiding it back and forth upon his long member.

“Okay,” said Scrapper suddenly, his entire frame venting deeply with a sigh of relief. “I just talked to Hook. He's sure that they didn't touch us. They made him help with repairs, but they didn't rape him while he was detached from Devastator, and they didn't do anything to the rest of us, even though we were under their control and could have so easily.” The Constructicon leader took a few more deep vents and did his best to still himself. He pulled out a towel from subspace and wiped his face.

And that was when Buzzsaw's lenses suddenly snapped over to the Prime.

The Autobot leader had finished his high-grade and was now molesting the yellow scout in his lap.

Optimus' hands clutched and groped at the minibot's comparatively tiny frame, eventually opening the little mech's modesty panel and rubbing a massive fingertip over the entrance to his valve. Not even the fan drowned out the cry of “Optimus! No! Please! Don't!”

Optimus pressed his facemask close to Bumblebee's sensor horn and spoke to him, hands continuing to fondle and press as the minibot squirmed and wept, optic fluid trickling from his eyes.

Scrapper was back to crying as well. “How could...? The poor little thing...” he mumbled despairingly. “I know he's the enemy and all, but...”

Onslaught stared on in disbelief, his hands brought up to cover his faceplate.

Buzzsaw's view switched back to Prowl and Mirage though the minibot's frightened cries continued to ring out. The tactician was rearranging the spy, whose legs were now spattered with transfluid. Prowl had overloaded again already. The lifted leg was brought down but the mech was curled into an awkward position and left hanging completely suspended and helpless, a couple of metal rods being used to hold his limbs apart. And in such a helpless state Prowl proceed to take him again, only to be joined by Ironhide who decided to force his massive silver spike into Mirage's mouth as well.

A loud scream from Bumblebee turned the feed back to the Prime and the scout, and they saw what had drawn the sound from the small mech. Optimus had forced a finger up into the yellow mech's valve and was violating him hard with it. The scout wailed with each thrust, repeated pleas of “no!” falling on deaf ears.

When they saw the Prime's spike emerge, bright red and huge and glistening with lubricant, Megatron hurriedly switched off the recording.

-o-o-o-o-o-

For a few awkward kliks the four Decepticons sat in silence, fans whirring and no one saying anything. No one even felt comfortable with making eye-contact.

But at last Megatron reset his vocalizer and resettled himself. “We should move against the West Fork Powerplant immediately, while there is still some disruption in the Autobot ranks. Optimus commands enough loyalty that I expect they will recover soon.”

Another awkward klik followed.

“Will we try to court the fallen mechs to our cause?” asked Onslaught eventually, whose hands had only just come down from guarding his face.

“Perhaps.”

“We need more information,” snapped Starscream brusquely. The seeker seemed more outraged than horrified by what he'd just seen.

“I'll talk to Soundwave. I suspect he'll be reluctant to send his cassettes back to spy inside the Ark,” said Megatron.

“What do we tell the others?” asked Onslaught.

“Yes?!” cried Scrapper, his voice shaking as much as his plating. “What do we tell them? That the Autobots are vicious, sadistic rapists? Immoral brutes at the least?”

The others clamored for an answer until Megatron raised his hands for silence. “We have no evidence yet that the Autobots would do such a thing to a Decepticon prisoner. There have been no claims of it, either substantiated or rumored. What we saw seems to be an isolated event. However, we shall urge more caution. If they can do this to their own kind they can certainly do it to us as well. And if there was some attempted coup or rebellion by Autobot spec-ops, we must take full advantage of that.”

Starscream, Onslaught, and Scrapper nodded in agreement. Megatron had made some good points.

“Dismissed,” said Megatron perfunctorily.

He didn't even bother to watch his underlings file out. And when they were gone he slumped into his chair, staring at the now black screen that had only so recently been ablaze with the travesty Buzzsaw had captured.

-o-o-o-o-o-

“My goodness you're loud!” laughed Ironhide, crouching in the washracks where he carefully soaped and brushed the dried fluids from Bumblebee's plating.

“Bumblebee, you are loud,” affirmed Optimus. The Autobot leader stood beneath the highest shower-head, cleaning himself thoroughly. His protoform still tingled from the afternoon's fun.

“Apparently neither of you have ever roomed next to a minibot before,” said the yellow mech cheerfully, moving slowly so Ironhide could wash him thoroughly from all angles.

“It's not all minibots, Bumblebee,” said Jazz from beneath a different shower-head. He and Prowl were diligently scrubbing the temporary white paint from Mirage's frame, working a pair of rotatory cleaning brushes through his much exposed cabling. The water that trickled away from them looked milky in color. “I think it's just you.”

“It's not just me. Cliffjumper's even worse. Powerglide's not as loud, but he won't shut up which is just as bad.”

“My room's next to Gears and Windcharger's room, and they're quiet as can be, and they're minibots,” stated Prowl.

“Well that's Gears and Windcharger. Try rooming next to Cliffjumper,” offered Bumblebee.

The six laughed, and Prowl and Jazz snuck a kiss behind Mirage's back.

“Though I must say that that was a bet I didn't mind losing,” said Bumblebee. He smiled at the larger mech bathing him as memories of pure pleasure flowed back into his stream of thought. “If I'd known you were that good with your equipment...” he sighed quietly.

“Nor I,” agreed Jazz. “Mirage?”

Mirage was studying his arms to see if any paint had been missed, using his thumb to rub off any clinging flecks he found. “I didn't mind. But next year, I hope otherwise.” His yellow optics shot Optimus a sly look. “I'll loan you my chains,” he said with a smirk.

“If your team wins next year, I'll gladly wear them,” said the Autobot leader, switching off the tap and heading for the blast-driers.

“Told ya' the Patriots would win the Superbowl,” said Ironhide.

-o-o-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-

The End

-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-o-o-

**Author's Note:**

> G1 or BW - Any Autobots or Maximals; Decepticons or Predacons - bondage, voyeurism, culture clash  
> (Anonymous)  
> 2017-01-16 07:41 am (UTC) (Link) 
> 
> I've seen a few fics where the Autobots are scandalized by hardcore Decepticon sexin' and so now I'd like it reversed. A lot of the more extreme kinks are steeped pretty heavily in trust after all and that's something the Decepticons tend to lack in each other. So, let's assume that Decepticons play rough but are vanilla as far as actual acts go. The exact reasoning is up to you-- whether no one trusts anyone else enough to do certain things, to not use sexual preferences as blackmail, both or other. For the sake of simplicity, let's assume also that for as cut-throat as Decepticon culture is, rape is at the very least frowned upon.
> 
> Actual prompt: Spying on the Autobots turns up some interesting footage. Namely, of two (or more) Autobots engaged in bondage, possibly some s/m and possibly some kind of consent play. Might not even be all that extreme. Might just be someone cuffed to the berth while their partner teases them for not begging loudly enough. Whatever the case, the Decepticons promptly and utterly flip out. Whether just because they can't believe the softsparked Autobots get off on something like this or because they think they're actually witnessing a rape, something they'd even less expect from the softsparked Autobots. How everything shakes out is up to you, I just want the Decepticons clutching their proverbial pearls at the sight of Autobots having kinky sex.
> 
> Would like to see, but not necessary:  
> \-- The footage also shows some aftercare, which the Decepticons find even weirder (in general or in light of what else they've seen).  
> \-- Some Autobot wanders into the scene (if it's semi-public) and the Decepticons are shocked that they just gripe, "Get a room!" and/or punish all involved for indecency (if it's an officer) instead of being appropriately horrified.  
> \-- At least one of the Autobots involved is an officer and any Decepticon who's ever been held prisoner gets especially freaked out because what if it had been them on the receiving end???


End file.
